Apart from missing family and friends, the hardest thing about living overseas is not being able to roost. I’ve always wanted to be one of those people that can live years out of a suitcase: nomadic and unattached to material possessions. But I’m a certified homebody. Ironically I haven’t had a place to put down roots in a long while. I’ve lived in a different flat or house every year for the past 10 years — two different flats in Edinburgh in 19 months — and it makes me antsy. The only way to combat that ruffled feather feeling is by nesting — no matter how temporary.

The flat we live in now is a teeny, inexpensive, brown-carpeted student flat right in the middle of town (our old flat was a bit more grown-up, but too cold). We rarely buy things for our temporary home because we save our extra cash for travel (as you read this, Matt and I are wondering around Bordeaux). But bare walls make my skin itch. So I made a few bits and bobs for the walls, covered my books (for the third time: here’s the first time and second time) and bought an azalea topiary that I hope I don’t kill.

Total budget for temporary nesting? Under $100. Here are the bits and bobs I use to cover up my naked walls:

The Lay of the Land

Now this next bit is mainly for Cath and might bore the socks of you guys. Ever since we were tots, Cath and I loved looking at floor plans. When we were old enough, we used to buy those magazines/books that had nothing but floor plans after floor plans in them. Isn’t that what all cool 13 year olds do?

And it wasn’t just voyeuristic floor plan ogling, whenever we stayed some place new (a B&B or friend’s house) Cath and I would record our new spaces by sketching up the floor plan. I think it was another way that we handled being away from our nests — a way of feeling in control of a new environment. Seriously, we are the poster girls for homebodies.

So this is a quick sketch for Cath to feel like she knows what I’m about day-in and day-out in Edinburgh — or at least get a sense of the space I inhabit thousands of miles away:

It’s not NYC or Hong Kong teeny, but it’s quite small for this city of Victorian proportioned tenements.

So tell me, are you guys nesters? Have you ever been nomadic and craved more roots, or vice versa?

—-

Dear Cath,

I can’t believe that we are even further apart this weekend. Denver and Bordeaux are roughly 5,000 (FIVE THOUSAND?!) miles apart. I can totally tell too — there’s more of a tug. No me gusta. I will drown my sorrows in wine — oh wait, I’m not drinking. Gah! Croissants? Nope those are not gluten free. I’ll just have to make do feeding my eyeballs with French architecture and pretend you are looking at somewhere similar? Bordeaux and Denver are a lot alike — said nobody ever. Wah wah.

Probably by the time you read this, we’ll be wrapping up our last evening in Bordeaux and you’ll be wrapping up your wedding weekend. I hope you and Troy are having a wonderful time. Tell me all about it.

Love and Wine-fumed kisses,

Lar

There are some girls who can rock the sporty look, but I’ve never been one of them. Most likely because I’m afraid of spherical objects hurtling toward me (George-Michael Bluth back-turn anyone? That’s how I respond to a game of catch). So I’ve always shunned hats that relate to athletics and kinda associated them with suburban dads-wear — not usually a look I go for either.

And then Acne put their models in unbranded black caps a few seasons ago and this season J.Crew topped off their embroidered work-wear with one. So back in the summer I bought a cheapie version and pulled it out for the first time while I was traipsing around propaganda architecture in Munich.

What do you guys think? Baseball cap fans or no? I haven’t worked up the gumption to wear mine indoors yet (I kind of feel silly and like I have blinders on) or at work, but it’s handy outdoors with our rainy/snowy Scottish spring.

——–

Dear Cath,

Remember we bought those together? Have you worn yours yet? We should do a twin take and I promise to wear something more interesting than my puffer coat and Cos boots! We should do it soon because, blink, and you will be in the middle of too-hot-for-hats Atlanta spring/summer. I don’t even remember what that feels like any more: thick, humid, pea-soup air. Maybe you need a nice cool break in Edinburgh, huh? I promise cool weather in the middle of July!

xoxoxox,

Lar

p.s. Remember how we used to make fun of the guys in high school who wore perfectly molded baseball caps? I eat my words, 17-year old self!

Cath and I have been Warby Parker fans for years (p.s. the gushiness is not due to sponsorship — Warby Parker have yet to hear about the AsianCajuns — shocking!). Cath and Matt have sported their hipster frames for years, but I stuck by my over-priced, barely-there specs and contacts for reasons unknown.

Warby Parker have lovely frames (especially for those of you who like your glasses to say “LOOK AT ME! I’M A PAIR OF GLASSES” — my old wishy-wishy pair said “Errr, this girl would so rather be wearing her contacts instead of us. Harumph.”) and every pair they sell, they donate a pair to someone in need. Ethical specs?! A dream come true! So I bit the bullet and went big and tortoise-shell-y.

Here is a close-up of my new frames in all their stylized glory (with, you know, some silverware, a mint julep cup, straw hat, rocks, and brown paper-covered books to keep them company):

Cath and I love Warby Parker so much we even went to a party they threw in Atlanta over the holidays. To be honest, apart from getting to be with Cath, it was kind of a let-down. When I went to try on glasses in their party school bus, the Warby Parker attendant was kinda rude to us. Maybe my jetlagged swagger was mistaken for public drunkenness — not to trusted around delicate hipsterware. Anywhoodles, we did manage this snap before we skedaddled:

——-

Dear Cath,

My frames are so heavy because of my coke-bottle lenses that I’ve sent away for these nerdy awesome accessories so they don’t slip down my nose constantly. I’ll let you know if they actually work once I get them. I hear-tell that you can headbang, grapple, and run on a treadmill once you get these on. I’m going to try all three things at once.

Miss you ever so much!

Love and lenses,

Lar

Happy New Year, lovely readers!

So what’s new with you?

I’m back in Edinburgh (way too far away from Cath again) after a lovely two weeks back in the States. I have a new bag and a new (thrifted) skirt. And a new job! Yup that’s right. I no longer wear sweat pants 24/7. I’ve been so inspired by Cath’s workwear these past few years, and I’m trying to live up to her stylish ways.

Do ya see me with the tights, and the pencil skirt and the accessorizing?! I also have a lovely new Kate Spade bag with my name on it (or close to it) given to me by Cath and my mama for Christmas. I’m all professional and stuff!

p.s. Is it spring time yet? I have to admit that post-holiday winter is my least favorite time of the year. Resolutions schmesolutions — I miss the sparkle and warm fuzzies of December. Who’s with me?

—-

Dear Cath,

You are my work-wear guru. I’m still getting the hang of it, but I haven’t touched a pair of “yoga” pants since starting this job. Maybe you should make a special trip out here to show me how it’s done properly. You know, like tomorrow. Wonderful! See you then!

Love Your Deluded yet ever hopeful Twin,

Lar

This Pamper Hamper from Harrods is perhaps one of the nicest things I’ve ever received as a blogger. It’s one of their luxury chocolate hampers: Harrods champagne, milk chocolate pink and white truffles, a Lardurée candle and rose perfume. I imagine this is the sort of thing Marie Antoinette would pack for her strolls around the grounds of Versailles. Who needs sandwiches and crudité when you can have champagne and chocolate?

Ladies and (especially) Gents, if you are still searching for the perfect present for your significant others or mothers (and have a cool £150 to spare), I highly recommend this most pampered of hampers. I feel down-right decadent eating chocolate and cream and tippling bubbles, whilst I smell of roses. Even in my wee Scottish flat with teeny windows, this basket of goodies makes me feel like a French queen in a palace — all without the fear of servant revolts and a potential beheading. That’s having your cake and eating it too.

Photo courtesy of Harrods

——

Dear Cath,

Oh my goodness, Kitcath, I sooo wish you were here to share this basket of amazingness with me. I still think it’s so funny you thought getting a hamper meant getting a laundry basket – tehehehe! Best laundry day ever, huh? Would you like me to bring the pink truffles home with me? Nom nom nom.

I’m currently smelling of the Ladurée rose perfume because I feel so fancy using that atomizer. I’m never had one, have you? I feel so glamourous and la-ti-da-y.

Still the best prezie of all is yet to come. . . SIX DAYS until I see you!!!!!

xoxoxoxo,

Lar